Capturing a Queen
by Lady M28
Summary: After 1.02 Mary & Francis decided to try becoming friends again, and to then see where it lead. Set between 1.02 & 1.03, Friendship & Flirtation, Oneshot.


**Author's note**: This is the first thing I've written in a very long time, so I'm very rusty, but trying to shake it off. Just a couple of days ago I was saying that Mary & Francis have made me kinda want to try my hand at fic again after 6+ years away, but I had no inspiration, then I went to bed and inspiration hit! )

This is unbetaed, but I did try to pick through it with a fine tooth comb and find the errors.

This is set between 1.02 & 1.03, when they decided to try to build a friendship and see where it lead. Thank you for reading, reviews are always appreciated.

**ETA - DISCLAIMER**, it's been so long since I've posted anything I forgot this, but I own nothing.

**Capturing a Queen**

"Tick-tock," you inject into the silence, trying to hurry her along.

"Hush," she admonishes, there are no time limits."

"True, but if this goes on much longer we're going to miss dinner, or you're going to be forced to make the faux paw of appearing at dinner in the same dress you've been wearing all day," you reason.

You've been sitting with Mary in a library alcove for the last two and a half hours playing a single game of chess. For the past quarter hour you've been fascinated by the combination of nose scrunching, forehead furrowing, lip pursing and biting that she has gone through as she has examined each of her possible moves. You have her in a bind currently, having trapped her remaining pawns and and one of her knights the left side of the board, the other knight is sitting uselessly on the other side, and one of her only plausible moves would be to take your rook with her bishop, but that leaves her queen completely defenseless. Somehow you guess sacrificing her queen goes against every instinct she has; thus the parade of fidgeting.

This isn't the first time the two of you have actually played, you both learnt together as children. Your tutors believing that it would help form the strategic part of your minds you would both need as skills, being future regents of your respective countries. Back then the games were short, and Mary either won or she got frustrated and upended the board. You hadn't cared back then, games ending meant you were released from your tutor for the day to ride or fish and explore or play knights. You were the angelic one of the two of you, the days when her frustration overtook her the masters would make her do more mathematical tables or make her do extra Latin translations.

She side eyes you, "The clock struck very shortly after your last move, so it's not as if I've been sitting here contemplating for a full half-hour," she rebukes, but there's no sting in her voice, clearly choosing to ignore your dig at her feminine vanity. She waits a few moments before blowing out her cheeks in frustration, "I don't know how I got into this bind," she mutters.

"I can go through all the moves that lead to where we are," you offer with a wide smile, feigning helpfulness.

"You're behaving very ungentlemanly," she retorts.

"I'm the Dauphin of France, I don't have to be a gentleman," you shoot back, your smile turning to a mocking grin as you slouch in your armchair, placing your ankle on your knee, elbows on the armrests, tenting your fingers under your nose. The picture of nonchalance.

"You have _got?_ to be kidding..." She huffs in outrage, moving as if to leave.

You pull yourself up, moving to cover her hand with yours, "Mary, I was only teasing," you return gently. "I do try to not take advantage of my people, even if it would be extraordinarily easy," you continue. "You see how courtiers try to ingratiate themselves with me and girls, hell, even women at least as old as my mother throw themselves at me regularly trying to be in the graces of the dauphin."

"Or perhaps just your mother," she returns tightly, anger and bitterness lacing her words.

"Yes," you sigh, "even that."

"I'm sorry," she says softly, her brown eyes shining apology, her fingers gripping your hand. "Getting to know one another again, becoming friends again...it's just we missed so much of one another's lives. Sometimes it feels like we're old friends, and sometimes it feels like we're strangers thrown into this maelstrom with extraordinarily high stakes. It can just be so..."

"Irritating, frustrating, annoying?" you finish, smiling genuinely, squeezing her hand back.

"All of the above," she laughs, her face breaking into its first genuine smile in quite some time.

"Well that is why we decided to do most of these little activities away from prying eyes," you remind her.

"Disapproving eyes," she reminds you.

"Yes," you agree, a touch of sadness creeping into your voice. The panic in your mother's eyes was unmistakable when you affirmed that your pull toward Mary was strong, making her seek to try to shadow your every move, spying on all your activities. If she knew just how much you'd come to admire Mary's strength, which reminded you of your mother's own, combined with a natural grace, true compassion for her people and desire to be a good ruler for them, your mother wouldn't just be worried, she would be in a panic.

Which is why the two of you had picked this spot on several occasions, the library was a long corridor on the western side of the building, books lining one side, windows the other. If anyone entered they would immediately be seen or heard, and sitting in the exact middle made listening in on your conversations difficult. It had turned out to be the perfect spot. Perfectly public, so no one could besmirch either of your reputations; but also perfectly private.

You've been meeting here after your midday meals for the last week or so, ever since you agreed to try to make your relationship work, at least until someone told the two of you that it wasn't to be. Honestly, it made sense for diplomatic purposes keeping the alliance strong in the face of a tedious waiting game, which you'd explained to your father after your mother complained to him about your rendezvous. Using Simon's taunts in your own defense. And, of course it made sense for your prospective marriage, if everything went as the current plans dictated, because repeating either of our parents marriage was something neither of us wanted.

A couple of days had been spent just like today, playing chess, you've each won a game. Several have been spent discussing sections of Machiavelli's _The Prince_, written for your grandfather. Those were the days you'd really gotten to know one another's minds, and the types of rulers each of you were trying to become. A couple of days going through favorite passages of _The Odyssey, _Mary saying that Machiavelli was enough war and strife when you suggested _The Iliad_ or Thucydides.

You have something special planned for tomorrow, you've been building a kite and have asked the kitchens to prepare a basket. You're hoping she'll be agreeable to a small change of scenery. Actually, you're betting she will.

It was almost funny how easy it was to fall back into old patterns once you'd stopped listening to the voices in your head, mostly your mother - who inexplicably hated Mary - and your father - who seemed to think the only type of marriage that existed was the long war campaign variety he and your mother had. They didn't seem to think or realize that two people both raised to rule might be different. You'd think your father who had immediately noticed the connection you had instantly felt with Mary when you met as children might have seen. After all, till a vibrant, opinionated and a bit wild young queen had arrived at French court all those years ago you'd been shy and sheltered, barely allowed to leave the castle itself. Mary had wanted to explore, have adventures, ride and run, things you'd never been allowed to do before; but ever her faithful companion you'd endeavored to keep up. She'd left you breathless back then, both literally and figuratively. You're beginning to realize that without your armour of duty she still does; but you're also realizing that you might leave her a little breathless as well.

"Ugh!" interrupts your musing and you look up to see her slamming down her bishop to take your rook. "There's nothing else for me to do!" she whines, pouting.

"I believe this means I win," you laugh, as you move your bishop to take her queen.

"You've taken my queen, not my king, and your bishop can't move to where my king is," she retorts with a bit of an eye-roll.

"Ah, but, you are Mary, Queen of the Scots, are you not?" you reply in what you hope is your most innocent and logical sounding voice. "So, in taking _your_ queen, should I not automatically win the game. After all, I have captured _my _queen, have I not?" you continue, your voice dripping innuendo, causing her to gasp.

"I...I...I..." She stutters, blinking, not seeming to know what to do with you switching strides on her. She's interrupted, or perhaps rescued, by clicking heals that you guess to be your mother's.

"Ah, there the two of you are," she says, as if she hasn't had a member of her own personal household guard stationed outside each entrance of the library since Mary and I entered, or that she'd had kitchen maids checking on us every half hour to see if we need tea, coffee, pastry, anything at all. Every one of them giving her detailed reports of what they could see and hear. "Mary, your ladies are looking for you. It's time to dress for dinner, and it is getting dark in here with no candles."

"I should go," Mary demures, getting up from her seat.

"I'll see you at dinner," you smile.

"Yes, you will," she replies, returning your smile before turning to go. You hear your mother release her breath behind you, but choose to ignore her, after all, dinner is followed by music, games and conversation. So, it's not like you can't continue your little tête-à-tête then. Also, you're excited to see if Mary will enjoy the surprise you have for her tomorrow.

"Francis," your mother begins as you stand up.

"Mother, I don't want to hear it," you say firmly, turning on your heal to leave, the silence behind you indicating she's staring after you, but you don't look back or turn, it's pointless. Plus, you have to change for dinner as well. Mary is expecting you there.

**FIN**

**Endnote**: If you would like to know where they played their chess match, I used the library at the Palace of Fontainebleau as my model. You can Google it, there's lots of pictures available on the internet of the library there. Henry II expended Fontainebleau a great deal, and I tend to believe that's where the show is supposed to be set.

Image by **darkpalace** on livejournal.


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